Speak No Feeling
by theatrics
Summary: It was a tangled web that she was beginning to weave all her own, one that she would only have to tend to for so long until the kids themselves took matters into their own inexperienced, clumsy, and dangerous hands.
1. Beginning

**Yay! I'm so glad to be writing again. I've been really busy ( and happily so :) ), as of late, but this will be my next full-length story that I'll be working on. I needed a break from _Otherwise_ for a little bit. Anyway, this story focuses on how The Corny Collins Show came to be. Most of the Council Kids will get their chance to shine, some way more than others, seeing as how this is all about them. It is somewhat Shelleycentric, butthe others are very, very essential and will be major, very seriousparts, I promise you. Expect delicious conflict, among many, many other things. So, I hope you enjoy!**

**This story is for you, Tracy.**

* * *

"No, no, no!" Sharply called a voice to a slender, redheaded girl, as she stood looking lamely over. "You've got it all wrong," The voice, obviously female, came from a rather young, brown-haired woman, either in her elder twenties or early thirties.

With an exasperated sigh, the older woman stood a little in front of the other younger girl, poised and ready.

"Feet together, with your right heel out," As she stated the movements, she performed them, as well, "Jump back into place with your right, land with your left toe on the ground and your left heel raised," She paused, visibly very into the current routine that she was performing for a quite uninterested-looking student. "Your left heel moves to the left side, and repeat the same as before, only this time with the left," She stated blandly, as though she were just trying to get her pupil to realize her budding annoyance. After a moment of silence and a cleverly issued eye-roll by the redheaded girl, the woman whipped around and stared at her, aggravated.

"Shelley Anne Ambrose," By the obvious tone of her voice, Shelley knew that she was, more or less, about to be chastised. "You are never this scatterbrained. What is your problem this afternoon?" She wondered, her eyebrows lowered in mild curiosity, though mostly in irritation and impatience. Shelley, who so immaturely rolled her eyes again, crossed her arms over her chest.

"It is _nothing_, Alexandra," She said uncaringly, with an indifferent shrug of her shoulders.

"Clearly, it is something. It isn't everyday that you are entirely incapable of performing the basic and even low _beginner_ steps of _The Chicken_, Shelley," Alexandra shot back with sardonic incredulity, while one eyebrow rose. Shelley cringed and narrowed her eyes.

"Oh? And when was it that you became my mother by so rudely attempting to intrude on my personal life?" Shelley said bitterly, her manicured fingernails tapping against the tan skin of her arms. The older woman exhaled heavily.

"Right," She eyed Shelley warily. "I've only taught—"

"Instructed," Shelley insisted, if only to spite her.

"All right—_instructed_—you since you could walk. I obviously have gotten nowhere fast with all the years that you and I have known each other," Alexandra noted, a vague hint of amusement in the underlying tones of her voice. Shelley, however, was not budging. She merely scowled and remained as she was, decisively silent. Her dance instructor drew in a sharp breath once more.

"You are truly an enigma, Shelley. I barely understand you myself."

"Somehow, I am not surprised," Shelley rolled her shoulders, unsatisfied until she heard a small 'pop' from both of them.

"Oh?"

"Nothing," Shelley bit her tongue to help combat the urge to continue on with her cynical reply.

"Just as I thought, Miss Ambrose," Alexandra stated, suddenly needlessly formal. Turning towards her once more, the taller woman stared down at the girl. "I expect an answer, at once. _What_ is bothering you?"

Seeing no end in sight to this continuous and repetitive game of ask-and-tell, Shelley let her shoulders fall somewhat as she took to her usual, dramatic stance of one leg slightly farther from the other, with her arms crossed.

"For Christ's sake, Alexandra," She pursed her lips into an irritable pout. "I am just annoyed. Am I not allowed to express in here, or _what_?"

Well, that was… minor progress, at least.

"I never said that you weren't allowed, Shelley. Now, with whom or what?"

Shelley had half the mind to say that it was her dance instructor herself, but she knew she would be unable to. As much as they appeared to annoy one another, Alexandra was one of the very few that Shelley held genuine respect for, believe it or not. She was basically her mentor, after all.

"You know precisely who," Was all that she said, as her dimly lit, blue eyes gazed up into the opposing pair of light green ones. Alexandra stood, puzzled, for a moment, before a thought hit her suddenly.

"Is it—"

"Amber? Yes, Alexandra, it is Amber. That idiotic harlot—"

"Shelley."

"What?" She hissed, her eyes narrowed to malicious slits.

"I've yet to see what's so horrible about this girl," Alexandra said simply, her expression unreadable and virtually blank.

Shelley laughed contemptibly, and rather loudly, also.

"Oh, my God. Are you serious?" She stifled another sharp, bit of laughter before eyeing her mentor. "She has only just joined the council, which has been around for, granted, only a couple of months, _but _still she believes that it _belongs_ to her. Her dancing, if I may even call it that, makes me want to individually rip out each one of my eyelashes with a pair of needles. Her mother makes me want to sit through Chinese water torture rather than listen to her. She is the most infuriating, untalented, childish, moronic bitc—"

"Shelley," Alexandra shook her head as, amazingly, a small grin crept across her lips. "I don't really believe that she's the 'childish' one in this."

"Was that supposed to _offend_ me?" Shelley snapped back, her top lip curled back slightly into a snarl.

"No," Alexandra sighed, an entertained grin still resting upon her elegant features. "I suppose not. Anyway, you're fourteen-years-old, Shelley. Couldn't you grow up just a little, and forget this silly game with them?"

"Game?" Shelley's voice was both surprised and on the offense.

"Oh, excuse me," Her mentor's tone was easily identified as sarcastic. "This oh-so tactful and well-planned plot to their inevitable downfall."

Shelley scowled once more and turned her back to her instructor, her lean arms remaining crossed over her chest.

"Just shut up, would you? You have no idea what you are talking about. You never do," Shelley growled fiercely, her eyebrows furrowing angrily as she glared at Alexandra by means of one of the many surrounding mirrors. "You play this off as though it's some simple, trivial matter. For your information, Alexandra, it is not. If the blame is to be placed on anyone, then place it on them. I have done nothing."

Shaking her head, Alexandra could not bring herself the wipe the unfortunate smile from her lips. Sometimes she wondered about Shelley's logic; it was a little off, if not completely misplaced. Wishing to avoid further conflict, Alexandra glanced over to the clock on the wall, and then back to the inwardly fuming teenager.

"All right, Shelley," She began, her voice soft and impartial. "I think we're done for the day. I'll see you tomorrow."

Grumbling to herself, Shelley briefly glared over her shoulder at Alexandra before snatching up her dance bag and heading towards the door. Alexandra merely watched on in silence as Shelley recklessly tossed open the door, thus completing her dramatic exit.

* * *

All of the current Council Kids were due down at the studio later in the afternoon for a small rehearsal. At the moment, there was only about twelve of them, a number that no one seemed very comfortable with. Shelley could not truthfully say that she knew each and every one of them by name.

She knew Amber, obviously, and Link, but those were evident. There was also a boy that followed Link around everywhere, and who kept eyeing her any chance that he got. She supposed that Link and he were 'best friends,' or whatever.

Then, of course, Amber was beginning to get her own posse situated. She had hooked a very nice, and almost shy, girl, one of whom Shelley actually liked a decent amount. She knew that her name was Tammy, but that was about all she knew. The rest were complete enigmas to her, aside from the creepy twins that would pop up out of nowhere. The other five were unimportant, and would probably be replaced soon; therefore, she did not bother with them, or anyone, really.

Shelley was actually early, for once, to a rehearsal. Typically, she found herself wandering in a little after they all started, or as one of the last arrivals just before they began. Today was different, though. She had made a disagreeable trip to a quaint café in town, much to her better judgment's personal preferences. It was an attractive place, with nice food, beverages, and the like; however, her undesirable meal had not been something she was particularly proud of. Though it was very little, Shelley's stomach had been bothering her ever since then, clearly uneasy over the outlandish concept.

Knowing all too well that she could not let something such as this bother her during rehearsal, she knew just how much self-control she was working with at the present. As she entered the studio, amongst cameramen, crewman, and a few others, she shoved past them all negligently, her eyes set uninterestedly ahead of her. Once she reached her destination, the ladies' restroom, she casually pushed it open and stepped inside, taking no heed to the men and women who were minding their own business and working around her.

She shrugged her dance bag off her shoulder as she entered the restroom, and let it fall carelessly on the tiled floor. Glancing around briefly, she let her eyes wander over to the mirror for a moment. She stared at herself for a mere second, and then gazed over to her dance bag again. She was hesitant, as that was evident by how her fingernails began to trace over the tanned skin of her slender arms. However, with an annoyed and rushed sigh, she haphazardly pushed one of the stalls open, slammed the door behind her, and then locked it.

Her irritation had only doubled since earlier, and she could not, for the life of her, figure out why. Alexandra had not done anything worth getting this angry over. In fact, Alexandra had done nothing at all. She had merely stated the truth. Shelley supposed that was what made her so aggravated. She had said the things that she did not want to hear.

But, that was not it at all. It had nothing to do with anyone, but had everything to do with Shelley herself. Glancing to the side pointlessly, Shelley wordlessly acknowledged the pleasant silence by glancing away from the dark-colored stall wall. Delicately resituating the skirts of her brightly colored dress, she crouched down. Without giving it even a second thought, her body took to its usual stance; and with barely any persuasion at all, it tensed, and released a small excuse of the contents of her stomach.

Stifling an irritated groan, Shelley drove herself even further, though with little purpose or effect, as shown by the mere and intense dry heaves that she lead herself toward. Noticing how her limbs begin to feel both light and heavy, she averted her head from the toilet, and barely caught herself on the left wall of the bathroom's stall.

With her chest heaving due to her labored breathing, she let her gaze clumsily wander beneath the stall to regrettably spot a small pair of dark blue high heels. Feeling her chest tighten suddenly, she held her breath and narrowed her eyes. She knew those shoes; she _knew_ them. Remaining where she was, she watched as the feet paused for another moment, turned sharply, and then clicked out of the bathroom. Curling her fingers into taut fists, Shelley slammed her right hand into the side of the stall harshly, and then forcefully and weakly willed herself to stand, despite her stumbling.

Purposefully allowing her eyes to wander away, she reached out with one of her hands, swiftly flushed the toilet, and then rashly unlocked and threw open the bathroom stall's door. Not even bothering to let her eyes glance up into the mirror above the sink, she washed her hands a few times, dried them off, and then stepped away. 

She ran her tongue over her lips, nearly cringing as she bent down to pick up her dance bag. Shelley's pale eyes glanced left and right for a moment, before she tentatively walked out of the bathroom, her fingernails knocking against the door briefly. With her dance bag resting on her right shoulder, she swallowed, her eyes still slightly narrowed, and then wandered over to her dressing table.

The others were beginning to arrive now, however unfortunately, and as Shelley began to touch up her rouge, reapply her red lipstick, and coat her eyelashes with unheard of amounts of mascara, she knew that she would be all right, for the moment. Once she was through fixing her make-up and spraying her hair to a minor perfection, she let her gaze fall blankly into the mirror. Her eyes were suddenly caught up with someone else's, someone else who happened to have a slim pair of dark blue high heels on their petite feet. Menacing, narrowed, blue eyes stared back into hers, carving into her awareness in a way that only Velma Von Tussle's could.

Velma stared forebodingly into the mirror's reflection, her gaze still locked intensely with Shelley's. With her own eyes narrowed, Shelley glared back, her fingers curling against the fingernail file that rested amongst them. She dared Velma to walk over; she dared her to say something, to tell her that her career was over, that there was no place on the show for shortcomings such as that. However, instead, Velma merely averted her gaze, offered Shelley a strongly satisfied smirk, and continued conversing with one of the backstage crewmembers.

Shelley let her eyes wander down to where her knuckles were beginning to turn white from gripping the fingernail file. So, was that it? She bit down roughly on her bottom lip, and was about to violently toss down the nail file when someone appeared behind her, smiling brightly.

"Hi there! Shelley, wasn't it?" Wondered a trim, little brunette, with a painfully addictive and persistent smile. Shelley's heart rate intensified for a few seconds before slowly beginning to return to normal as she whipped around, her mouth half-poised and ready to speak.

"Yes," She replied plainly, her fingers finally starting to release their death grip on the nail file. "Hello, Tammy."

"Gosh, I thought I was going to be late today," Tammy began, as she moved over next to Shelley, to study her present condition in one of the mirrors for a few moments, as it had been clear that she probably sprinted to the studio. "My Ma had me watching my two little cousins. They're only about two and four, but they're so hyperactive and troublesome! I almost lost one, and I—"

Shelley was staring at her somewhat distractedly as she went on, and Tammy blushed as she came to an abrupt realization.

"Oh, sorry, Shelley!" Tammy smiled sheepishly and brushed a couple of strands of her brown hair behind one of her ears nervously. "I didn't mean to ramble."

Dismissing the matter with a thoughtless shrug of her shoulders, Shelley glanced around briefly, and then looked back to Tammy.

"Where is Amber?" She asked unceremoniously, yet tightly, as well as with a tone of voice that took Tammy by complete surprise.

"I, ah… I don't know, Shelley. I mean…" She trailed off, obviously having no idea.

"It doesn't matter," Shelley began, her shoulders falling into yet another shrug. "You are just usually with her."

"Oh, well… I haven't seen her since—"

"Tammy!"

Both Tammy and Shelley turned their heads quickly at the sudden calling of the brunette's name. Mixed reactions and emotions were immediately put into play at the sight of the damnable, plastic, blue-eyed blonde walking over, an overtly angry expression on her pretty features. Shelley felt her eyes narrow involuntarily.

"Tammy, what are you doing over here?" Amber reprimanded the other girl, with her usual, lower lip pout being put into full swing. "Mother's about to call us over to begin rehearsal, and you're talking to—" The blonde's eyes trailed coldly over to where Shelley's stared back vacantly, yet still with some unspoken challenge. "—_her_."

Tammy promptly took to the defensive and moved next to Amber, her eyes tracing the ground apologetically. If there was one thing that she had quickly learned from her couple of weeks on The Corny Collins Show, it was that no one crossed either of the Von Tussles, and that everyone was supposed to immediately fall into line whenever they called upon them to do so. Tammy had noticed, however, that a few of the Council members were a bit slow on the uptake with this silent rule. Link Larkin, of course, was excused, but what about Shelley, and that boy that seemed to be at Link's heels at every moment? Brad, or something? To them, the 'rule' seemed virtually nonexistent, or at least inconsequential.

"Sorry, Amber," Tammy said quietly, her lips curving down into the most pathetic and yet compelling frown that Shelley was certain that she had ever witnessed. Nevertheless, as Amber very briefly closed her eyes to issue an irritable scoff, Shelley caught this ridiculously contrite glance from Tammy. Shelley narrowed her eyes in disgust and shoved the look out of her mind.

"You'd better be. Just don't let it happen again," She started, her eyes purposefully keeping away from Shelley, who stood, lips pursed, arms over her chest, with one foot poised slightly farther than the other. "Got it?"

"Mmmhm," Tammy mumbled, still too uncomfortable to look up again just yet.

"Good," Amber concluded, with a pleased smirk, one that struck Shelley as far too similar to the one that Amber's mother had given her just moments before. "Now, as for you," She turned her full attention to Shelley, for the first time. "Get over there to rehearsal, Shelley. You're always late, and it's annoying," She glared nastily at Shelley, who, in turn, looked entirely unfazed. "Your place on the show isn't a guarantee, you know. Mother's always talking about replacing unnecessary members with something or someone _better_."

Shelley stared back into Amber's bitter gaze with outward, obvious indifference. Amber lowered her voice, and Tammy made a face that clearly voiced how awkward and uncomfortable she felt to have to stand through this.

"So, I'd watch your step, if I were you," Amber nearly growled the words as she silently signaled to Tammy with a nod of her head, to prepare to leave. Yet, before they were able, Shelley began to move before them, her eyes closed momentarily as she paused in mid-step, so that she was now directly adjacent to Amber.

"No, Amber," She said almost inaudibly, her eyes fixed into such ominous glare that Tammy couldn't bring herself to even bother listening to this conversation anymore. "I would watch where _you_ step, because what goes up, must always come down," She hissed the words, and then slowly began to walk again, only to temporarily glance over her shoulder for one, last verbal stab at her. "And you had better believe that I will be there to watch you fall, and to tear you down every, single step of the way."

With that, Shelley joined the now gathered group of young teenagers, all prepared for another grueling session with Velma Von Tussle. Neither Shelley nor Amber bothered to acknowledge one another for the remainder of the rehearsal, and when it inevitably came to an end, late in the afternoon, the growing and obvious division between certain Council members only became more and more apparent to the critical eyes of outsiders.

Individuals with such diverse, complex, and, at times, brash personalities did not belong together if harmony was encouraged. However, if there was one thing that the mastermind behind it all, Velma Von Tussle, knew, it was that it would work _wonders_ for television, and for her daughter's predestined rise to the top of this gruesome and treacherous chain.

It was a tangled web that she was beginning to weave all her own, one that she would only have to tend to for so long until the kids themselves took matters into their own inexperienced, clumsy, and dangerous hands. Then, all of the work would be done for her, and she could just sit back, reel with laughter, and enjoy her brilliant and intricate creation.


	2. Satisfaction

**Thank you all for all of those extremely sweet and very encouraging reviews! I really, really appreciate it. :) Tracy was a huge, **_**huge**_** help and inspiration with and for this chapter. ( Though, she's always a major part of my writing. So, that's nothing new, I suppose. ;P ) With that said, let the drama begin!**

* * *

The weeks to follow were relatively tough, for all of the Council members. Every three or four weeks, they would have an assessment, to pick out the weak links, and to prepare for auditions to find a more adequate replacement. Few of the Council Girls and Boys actually appeared to be worried, and foolishly so. Shelley knew that Link and Amber were safe; that was obvious. However, the rest of them had a very good chance of being replaced, some more than others.

Shelley's past few days, and even weeks, had not been so magnificent. Between her parents (more particularly, her outrageously demanding mother), her schoolwork, the evident distractions at the studio, and her undeclared and unacknowledged 'problem,' her overall performance was beginning to fall short, and, unfortunately for her, more than just she had taken notice.

"Shelley," Velma said piercingly, after Shelley had, with an intense case of lightheadedness, stumbled for about the tenth time that afternoon at the rehearsal. "We have no room for those with _two left feet _on this show," Velma Von Tussle had no problems whatsoever calling anyone out in front of everyone else; in fact, it was very liberating and quite enjoyable for her. "If this is too difficult for you, then please, do us all a favor, and remove yourself from rehearsals. We have no desire to have to sit through your sloppy footwork for three hours a day."

Taking the unwanted criticism in silently, Shelley merely kept her eyes locked with Velma's while a few of the others snickered and whispered to one another. Amber looked infinitely pleased, while others, such as Tammy and one of the other, unidentified girls, just looked awkward and even sympathetic.

"Answer me, Shelley. I haven't got all day to deal with an angst-ridden, inept teenager," Velma said impatiently, her fingernails tapping against her own hips for a moment as she studied the smaller girl. Shelley retaliated with a roll of her eyes, a very typical reaction of hers.

"Whatever you say, Velma," She hissed quietly, her eyes narrowed to annoyed slits. Velma was not the least bit pleased with the response, but she had, at least, expected it. If Shelley was anything like her mother, which Velma personally knew that she was, more than the teenager would ever acknowledge, then she knew what to anticipate from her each time she opened that brash mouth of hers.

Resisting the urge to take to Shelley's own, immature eye-roll, Velma backed up and surveyed the rest of the kids, but not before giving the redhead a very threatening look.

"Listen to me," She called, her voice demanding their feeble attention spans. "Your assessment is tomorrow, bright and early, at eight o'clock in the morning," Velma had to keep a vicious smirk of satisfaction from returning to her features for the time being. She could not wait to be brutal with these kids, and to even crush some of their dreams by means of telling them that they were to be replaced; it was always so… fulfilling. "So, bring those bright, sun-shining faces, and do _not_ be late. You will be excused from class," She finished, her voice dripping with tangible amounts of sarcasm and insensitivity.

When she was met with groans of disgust, chirps of excitement, and blank stares, Velma finally submitted to a roll of her eyes.

"Now, go home, all of you," Velma dismissed them with an uncaring flick of one of her hands, and then walked over to one of the crewmen to discuss something about the lighting. They had plans to finally go on-air within a few months, and everyone was budding with excitement.

Choosing to ignore Velma's order to leave, the Council Kids grouped off to talk to one another. Amber commanded a conversation between Tammy and a few of the other girls, while Link, Brad, and another boy talked amongst themselves. Shelley, however unfortunately, was left to talk to the dreaded twins for a moment. It was frustrating, for multiple reasons, though, mainly because she could not tell them apart, and, obviously, because they were considerably annoying.

"Wow, that was harsh," Noreen said, wide-eyed.

"Yeah, harsh!" Doreen repeated, shaking her head somewhat. Shelley made a face, unsure of what she was honestly supposed to say to that. What were they doing over here with her, anyway?

"Sure," Shelley said vacantly, her eyes wandering around the studio for some way out. It was clear, by the expressions on the twins' faces, that they were bound to stumble into some really awkward conversation any moment now, and that was not something that Shelley was necessarily looking forward to.

"So, Shelley," Began Noreen, who visibly more straightforward than her still just-as-eager sister. "What's this about you and Brad, huh?" There was obvious offense in Noreen's voice, and Shelley was disgusted at the possible thoughts of why.

"Yes, do tell!" Doreen was doing her best to be annoying by echoing everything that her sister was saying. And it was working.

Shelley stared at them. Brad? Who the hell was…

"Hello, ladies," Cooed the voice of a rather awkward-looking, wannabe charming, tragic comb-over excuse of a boy. Shelley's tuition told her that this was, unfortunately, Brad: the boy who eyeballed the hell out of her any chance that he got, and who was at Link's heels virtually every single second, of every day.

Shelley suddenly wanted to bash his skull in with the nearest hard, and perhaps lethal, object. She supposed it was that cheesy smile of his, but whatever.

"Hi, Brad!" Noreen greeted him happily, with such a big grin on her face that it made Shelley want to go push children off playground swings just for fun.

Doreen issued a similar greeting while Shelley merely stood, her expression dumbed down to a look of irritable vacuity. The twins exchanged glances, as Brad combed his fingers through his sprayed-down hair.

"Would you two girls give Shelley and I a second, or two?" He asked them captivatingly, almost causing the more enthusiastic Brad-fan twin to get her skirts in knots and faint from hyperventilation. "Then, we'd love to see your pretty little faces over here again," He winked at them, a wink that was so obviously ripped off of Link Larkin, only this one was much worse. Shelley felt like gouging her eyes out.

"Okay!" Doreen replied, as she began to walk off, over to where Amber was entertaining the rest of the girl population with some wild, more-than-likely untrue story. Noreen sighed heavily, and nodded her head a bit distractedly.

"Yeah, sure. See you soon, Brad!" She finished somewhat sadly, yet still with a forced smile, as she followed her sister off toward the other group of girls.

Shelley was in precisely the same stance that she had been ever since she was bothered by the twins, and her expression remained inactive, yet still just as dangerous in appearance. Brad grinned and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked to be about to speak when Shelley curtly interrupted.

"Excuse me while I go contract multiple, highly contagious, sexually transmitted diseases," Shelley said flatly, her feet poised and ready to leave. Brad, however, was not having that just yet.

"Funny, Shelley," He said very simply, as he studied her for a moment.

"No, 'funny' is the fact that I scarcely _know_ you, and yet you insist on stalking me on a daily basis," She began, her head tilting to the side ever so slightly. "Hmm… I wonder what could possibly be wrong with that scenario," Her rank of sarcasm only escalated as she went on.

"Get to know me, then," He started, moving a bit closer. She challenged him with a twitch of her fingers at her sides.

"Only if you will promise _me_ that you will get to know what it feels like to have my hand and fingernails shred at your face."

"Ouch," He faked a small, synthetic frown. "Someone's a bit touchy today."

Before Shelley could strike back, someone else broke into the conversation, so obviously uninvited.

"She's always been 'touchy,' Brad."

Link Larkin stood, beside his childhood best friend, Brad, grinning. Shelley knew that this would be the opportune moment to excuse herself, or to go be 'touchy' elsewhere. Faking a loud and purposefully obnoxious laugh, Shelley followed it up with an annoyed groan.

"Your sexual innuendos were always so hysterical, Larkin," She could not pretend to be civil with him—not on her life, or his.

"About as hysterical as your attitude, right, Shel?" Link ventured casually, with his eyebrows rising in apathetic question.

Shelley rolled her eyes again and scowled.

"I am not talking to you."

"Who's talking?" Link was just trying to push her buttons, and she was all too aware of it.

"Why not just walk over to your little, blue-eyed, blond prize, take your moron of a best friend, and go bother someone around your intelligence level?"

Link took this pleasant opportunity to blatantly roll his eyes in front of her, before shoving his hands into his pockets. He shrugged his shoulders and turned somewhat.

"That's bound to be more… _stimulating_ than this, anyway," Link smirked and began to walk away, while Brad remained, for the time being, much to Shelley's displeasure.

"What do you want?" Shelley narrowed her eyes, completely aware of the fact that Amber's entire group—which now included Link—was now looking over here. "Be a good, little dog, and go barking up someone else's tree."

Brad shrugged dismissively, his hands jingling a bit of change in his pocket in the most infuriating fashion.

"Right," He rolled his eyes, entirely unfazed by her attitude and supposed 'threats.' "Well, the offer's always open, you know," When that stupid smirk returned to Brad's lips, Shelley's own top lip curled back into a silent snarl. She didn't even care to figure out what the hell he was even talking about.

"Whatever, Brad," She was growing impatient. Crossing her arms over her chest again, she eyed him darkly. "You are excused." She watched as he left, feigning triumph toward the other group, as he walked over to join Link and the others. As soon as he arrived, the twins came shuffling over, and Shelley bit her lip to keep yet another, exasperated sigh to herself.

"So, what did he say?" Noreen demanded quickly, though with imitated sweetness, and a complete lack of patience.

"Yes, what?" Doreen seconded the question with wide, curious eyes.

Shelley honestly just wanted to go home, at this point. Glancing at the more eager twin, Noreen, her eyes suddenly glittered as an idea struck her.

"He said," She began, pausing only for dramatic effect. "that he wants you to wait for him at his locker after school tomorrow. He has something… _quite_ special in store for you."

Both of the twins perked up instantly, with Noreen in the lead with her ecstatic, surprisingly genuine smile.

"_Really_?" It sort of slipped out of Noreen, but she just could not contain herself, as she stood, utterly taken aback.

"Yes," Shelley confirmed dully.

"_Really_, really?" She repeated, and Shelley furrowed her eyebrows.

"Are you deaf? Or, just _stupid_? You heard what I said."

Noreen withdrew slightly, but her happiness was still quite apparent. Doreen, however, appeared to be tending to what looked like a bruised ego.

"I'm so happy!" Noreen squeaked, and then sighed contentedly. Shelley cringed and made another, displeased face. "I could just hug you!" As she leaned forward to attempt to do so, Shelley stepped back and lifted her hands in a feeble defense.

"But, you're _not_ going to," Shelley warned her, as her hands slowly descended to rest on her own hips again. Noreen regained her composure, the smile just as persistent as before.

"Well, thanks for the news, then, Shelley!" She chirped, her eyes closing momentarily as she grinned. "Forget what Doreen and I mentioned earlier about you and him, okay? Guess those were just rumors."

"Mmhm," Shelley crossed her arms again, and watched as the twins displayed two, completely different emotions on their faces. One was beaming, while the other appeared to be forcefully unfazed, and inwardly seething with either rage or jealousy.

Not even bothering to say goodbye to either of them, Shelley turned her back and slowly walked over to retrieve her dance bag from over by the dressing tables. Once she had situated it on her shoulder, she set out toward the stage door, taking no notice to the fact that both Link and Amber had disappeared from their crowd.

There was far too much preparation to take care of before tomorrow morning, and she was more than just a little unsettled.

* * *

Amber's group, all throughout the commotion caused by Shelley's, had been going strong with giggles, gossip, and possible plans for the weekend. The blonde spoke with a certain, trained poise, that had each of the girls captivated, wide-eyed, and hanging off every last word. What she said did not even have to technically be anything special, but it would, to them, still be enlightening or witty or the perfect thing to say. It was a position that Amber so easily filled, and had just as easily stolen from someone else.

"So, she really said that to you?" Tammy wondered, somewhat timidly, yet still very curiously, as she looked on at Amber.

"Uh, _yeah_," Amber rolled her eyes, not so much at Tammy, as she did at the person to whom she spoke of. "She's a bitch, Tammy. What else would you expect?"

"Oh, right," Tammy forced a tiny smile. "Okay," She affirmed her response with a nod, and Amber flashed a very pleased smirk.

"Oh, and, speaking of, just last night she—"

Amber would have continued if it were not for the sudden appearance of Link, and soon after, Brad. Link was the first thing (or, person, really) that Amber had taken any notice to when she first joined The Corny Collins Council. He was gorgeous. He couldn't really dance, and was slightly—_extremely_—awkward at times, but he was otherwise _perfect_, in her girlish, teenage perspective; and she wanted him, and would have him. Her mother and she had made certain of that, one little, baby step at a time.

"Hello, Link," Amber spoke evenly, as she offered him a mischievous grin. He caught her look, and returned it in full with that work-in-progress wink of his.

"Amber," He said her name with an extra dash of charm, and then regarded the rest of the girls with a nod and smirk. "Girls."

Each of the other girls bit their lips or something similar, as they tried their hardest not to swoon or show their interest. They knew better than to deliberately flirt with Amber's claimed eye-candy right in front of her. None of _them_ had death wishes, anyway.

Leaning over towards Amber somewhat flirtatiously, he let Brad distract the other girls while he carefully whispered in her ear.

"Hey, little darlin'," He began, a smirk fixed to his features again. "Walk with me?" He asked, or moreover: _directed_, as he tilted his head toward the backstage area.

Amber feigned surprise, and then giggled playfully, as she nodded her head. Leaving the rest of their group to talk amongst themselves, the pair of them wandered backstage, away from everyone else, and then stood, rather awkwardly, at first. Then, after a moment, Amber moved towards him, her arm snaking its way around one of his.

"So, did you need something?" She wondered harmlessly, a roguish grin on her pretty, feminine features.

Link stared down at her, outwardly cool and collected at the sight of a beautiful young girl hanging onto his arm. Inwardly, however, he was actually completely in awe of the concept. As a young kid, he was awkward, gawky, scrawny, and even hideous. To think, now he was hooking girls like Amber Von Tussle. He smirked even more darkly, and his blue eyes shone with a certain, newfound, unattainable, and wild sense of self-importance that Amber found irresistible, and that he was, in truth, just getting the hang of.

"Friday night's the night that I finally get to take you out, right?" He asked smugly, as he let his fingers trace over the skin of her arms lightly, causing her to shiver somewhat, but then quickly regain her stance. Amber went on smirking, and then teasingly pulled away to look at him.

She surveyed him for a moment, studying his current, unreadable expression. Tipping her chin upward slightly, she let her arms cross delicately over her chest as she let her eyes fall shut for a few, precious moments, before reopening once more.

"I don't know, Link," She said coolly, her shoulders holding their regal stance, even while falling somewhat in what the Von Tussles constituted as a 'shrug.' "What do _you_ think?" She countered, in an obviously flirtatious manner.

"I think," He started, and then moved forward to place two of his fingers beneath her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "that I'll pick you up at eight o'clock sharp, babe."

Amber sucked in her breath sharply, but still kept that playful edge and façade of a vixen permanently fixed to her outward show.

"I was thinking more like seven-thirty," Amber corrected him serenely, her rosy lips curling into the most compelling smirk that Link had ever seen on any girl, woman, or otherwise.

"All right," He surrendered, his expression mimicking hers, to a certain extent. "Seven-thirty, it is, then."

"Good," She concluded, as she reached out to playfully readjust his tie. "I'll see you then, and," Amber paused, her light blue eyes glittering up at him. "I know that we'll make _amazing_ use of that extra half hour."

With that, she was off, leaving Link there with a slightly mystified look on his face. Oh, he had no doubts about how amazing it would be all right.

Any night with Amber Von Tussle was virtually guaranteed of such a title. Then again, he honestly had no clue just whom he was dealing with, as decided straight from the source herself—a source that ultimately _knew_ that she had Baltimore's fated, soon-to-be heartthrob wrapped around her little finger.


End file.
